


Snowfall

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cabin Fic, Cabins, Cute, Fluff, Geographical Isolation, M/M, Sickfic, Trapped, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wendigo hunt isn't going as well as Dean had expected when heavy snowfall separates Sam from him and Castiel by a few hundred miles of unusable roads and the fallen angel comes down with a fever, but when the worst tragedy is the absence of hot chocolate, the full picture can't be all that bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowfall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LimonadeGaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LimonadeGaby/gifts).



> It's - it's close enough to the prompt, right? Aaahhh, I feel so fluffy after writing this it's almost scary.

 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

When Cas came down with a cold, Dean couldn't say he was surprised. They were on a wendigo hunt way up in the nowhere land, Sam was stuck three towns over from the cabin they'd grabbed for a base due to the heavy snowfall that had conveniently blocked all the roads leading up to the mountainside. So here they were, stuck together if not entirely unwillingly so, surrounded by the frost and the mountains of snow but still well stacked on firewood to keep them warm for at least three months or more. Although the whole situation came across rather comical to Dean, he was certain the funny would wear off much before they'd run out of wood and no matter _when_ they would get unstuck, it still wouldn't be soon enough. As for their other needs, the cabin remained reasonably well stacked as they had never intended to visit the nearest town more often than was absolutely necessary. The police force had proven both uninterested and uninformed about the disappearances, claiming the sole survivor had simply lost her mind while having to fend off for herself down in the pit she'd fallen into, but Dean knew better after contacting her. She was most definitely sane and the pit she'd been rescued from had been her last resort in escaping the beast that was clever enough to know the crack was too thin for it to fit in.

Now the hunt was off due to the excessive snow and would be for a while unless the wendigo decided to pay a visit on its own, and should such a thing happen, Dean had prepared a little booby trap as a welcome gift by the doorway to make sure there would be no unannounced guests under their roof without them being first properly introduced.  
He'd walked into the trap twice now himself and the blind spots the lights left in even his normally well-adjusted vision lasted for the better part of the time it took for him to undo the trap. No wendigo would get through that and as a bonus, Castiel found it most amusing when Dean stumbled into it and flared up the whole cabin as a grand spotlight upon his failure.

The fallen angel spent the majority of his time curled up under a thick layer of woolly, tickly blankets, sketching the birds of winter that often visited their cabin's feeder during daylight into Dean's journal and reading dusty long-forgotten publications from authors Dean had never heard about and couldn't find the interest in knowing of now. He'd developed an addiction to the hot chocolate Dean had made him, but now that Dean wandered off into the kitchenette to make him more of it he found the container empty.  
To make it worse, he had a feeling he would have needed it for himself quite soon as well, as his throat was growing sore just like the angel's had been a couple days before the fever had landed him in bed, or rather, on the couch that served the purpose much better.

”Um, Cas?” he called out a little hoarsely.  
The angel shifted, turned around and laid his eyes upon Dean, brows raised and eyes wide and round in a questioning manner. Dean wondered how likely it was that the hot chocolate being out of question would make him a bad caretaker.  
”A tragedy, really,” he shrugged and showed the empty tin can to the older.

”Aah,” was the response he got.  
Castiel's arm slipped off the arm rest of the couch and his jaw hit it instead.  
”That was all?”

”Yeah; I didn't think you'd get hooked to the stuff. I thought I'd have a cup, maybe two at most after spending the day covered by snow up to my freakin' waist,” Dean huffed with an absent grin as he watched the other reposition himself awkwardly upon the couch.  
The older's cheeks burned red and Dean wasn't sure if it was due to the fever or the embarrasment caused by the slip.  
”You said you don't want coffee, right?”

”No,” Castiel confirmed, ”It doesn't seem to agree with me when I'm sick.”  
He curled up under the blankets again in the coughing fit that followed his words and Dean felt an absurd leak of warmth in his guts that rose straight up to his chest and made him smile stupidly.

”Okay, well, I'll figure something out. Get covered and don't choke while I'm thinking.”  
He turned away from the other again and felt his brows knitting together as he kneeled to look into the cupboard. If he was completely honest with himself about what he found inside he had to admit that they were better stocked with mouse poop than any ingredients for hot beverages – coffee was in plenty, he lived off the stuff, but anything non-coffee was hard to come by. At the very back of the level he was staring into he finally did see something unexpected that had definitely not been brought in by them: a Japanese or Chinese tin container with cranes upon it that looked like it couldn't possibly be coffee, nor could it be beans.  
A little afraid of perhaps finding the trapped spirit of a long gone mummified rodent inside he peered under the lid. The can was full of what looked like dried grass and it smelled strongly of herbs.  
”Dude, I found some ancient oriental weeds stacked like way back in here. I think it's tea. Wanna give it a go?”

He heard a muffled chuckle telling him just how far up his companion had pulled the blankets again.  
”That sounds risky,” Castiel muttered into the wool, ”but I'm no stranger to danger.”

”Shut up,” Dean grimaced, pulled up and closed the cupboards.  
He laid the can on the table and gathered up the means for boiling water for the tea from the remaining cupboards. After a brief, confused moment during which he tried to remember how tea should be made, he settled on plan A and hoped the end result wouldn't be too full of remoistened bits of weeds floating around in a less than satisfactory watered-down version of what he was aiming for.  
Once the pot was on its proper place above the blue-tinted flames he returned to Castiel.  
”Get up,” he muttered, poking the male to move from where he was settled so comfortably, ”I'm cold.”

Dean settled against the arm rest upon which the angel had stacked multiple pillows to make up for the height difference and in order make it more comfortable to rest against, and in return he got Castiel leaning back onto him so that he ended up lying between Dean's legs, head resting upon his chest. Absently the younger pushed his fingers into the other's black hair that had grown out to form small curls over his forehead, neck and ears. He was hot and soft and heavy on top of Dean and the glow of the fireplace combined with the comfort Castiel brought him made Dean feel relaxed and good enough to fall asleep. If he would, he thought as he closed his eyes and leaned his head to the back rest of the couch, the irritating whistling of the pot would eventually and inevitably wake him up in time to save the cabin from burning down.

”The radio said the snowfall will be over tomorrow,” Castiel informed him.  
He'd been listening to the thing the whole day before it had gone mute with the increasingly bad weather whilst Dean had been outside splitting firewood.

”Yeah,” Dean grunted, ”they said that last week, too.”

”I suppose they did.”  
The older turned around and crawled onto Dean so that his knees were positioned on both sides of the younger's hips. Dean peered at him lazily through a partially opened eye before closing it again. A warm smile grew upon his lips as he felt Castiel lean towards him and then plant a soft kiss on his lips. He replied in kind, and the manner in which they kissed was slow and gentle and stretched like neither of them quite knew when was the proper time to stop. It turned Dean's sore lips sticky, and the weight of the older's shifting ever so slightly upon his hips in rythm to the kiss brought a surge of warmth rushing down Dean's body in a manner that was more of a longing agreement with the welcome feel of the male on him than an actual sign of arousal.  
”I'm sorry I'm giving you my sickness.”

Dean chuckled breathlessly and dismissively into the kiss that he really did not want to break yet. In a moment Castiel rejoined it again, and now that his lips were moving along Dean's once more, the younger could spare the time to respond.  
”I'd trade my health for something like this any day, you know,” he spoke and felt the angel shiver against him, "I've waited long for the worst thing in my life to be a sore throat... And for the best to be to feel you near me despite all the odds."


End file.
